


The Masked Stranger

by ReyloBrit



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Carnival, Cunnilingus, F/M, Masks, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Stranger Sex, Strangers, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Venezia | Venice, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:29:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23109271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReyloBrit/pseuds/ReyloBrit
Summary: Venice 1756 - Rey loses her chaperone at the Carnevale di Venezia, but finds an intriguing stranger who is more than willing to look after her and all her needs.(A smutty one shot)
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 36
Kudos: 235
Collections: Reylo Theme Event





	The Masked Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> Reylo theme: Masked

_Venice 1756_

The stranger's grip was firm and tight, his big fingers curling completely around Rey's slender upper arm.

"Come with me," he whispered, his voice deep and melodic; his mouth so close to her ear his warm breath whistled over her skin.

She shivered, although the air was hot and humid, warmed by the many burning torches and the swarms of people bustling through the Venetian square.

He stroked his thumb over her soft skin and said again, "Come, little mouse." It was half command, half invitation.

The city heaved with residents and visitors, some arrived by boat and others by carriage. Every room had been rented, and tonight every Ball was full to bursting. The crowd, packed tight, allowed Rey little room to turn, but she twisted her head to look up at him with wide eyes behind her mask.

The man was tall and strong, and his large frame towered over her. Half his face lay hidden beneath his own mask of jet black, scarlet cracks criss crossing over the porcelain- a clever illusion that gave the impression that it had once been broken. Only his mouth and chin were uncovered, his lips sensual and knowing, his hair as dark as his mask.

He met her eyes with his own, a glint of wickedness flickering in the swirling caramel of his irises. Did she know those eyes? She didn't think so but they had her heart skipping a little faster. A temptation, a promise, a dare.

Voices swelled around Rey in the evening's darkness, and the sound of strings skipped across the square. In the distance, a man, tottering above the heads of the crowd, threw flames high into the black sky and a jester dived and danced through the people, swinging a man around here, pinching the cheeks of a lady there. The many faces of the crowd were frozen, expressionless, every person disguised in a mask - some delicate and beautiful, others frightening and grotesque. 

Rey wore one of pure white, contrasting against the pink of her high cheekbones and the rosie colour of her mouth. Her dress and cloak were pink too, the material a silk that rustled as she moved and felt smooth to the touch.

Letting his gaze trip slowly down Rey's body, the stranger swiped his tongue over his plump bottom lip and she shivered again. It was irresistible. She tugged the hood of her cloak further over her head and nodded, and the man weaved through the revellers, she trailing behind him, his grip still locked on her arm. Several hands reached to grab her as they walked, and she shrank back, cackles of laughter ringing out. The stranger pulled her closer to him, shoving one plump reveller away, the large nose of his mask hooked profanely. The drunk swayed and stumbled and then the crowd quickly swallowed him whole.

"The Carnevale di Venezia is no place for a lone little mouse," He hissed, his tone conveying his disapproval.

"I didn't come alone," she protested, clutching at his hard shoulder, admiring his strength, allowing her nails to sink a little into his skin. "I lost my chaperone in the Piazza San Marco."

"If you were mine, I'd take better care of you," he said, his hand finding the back of her neck, tracing his finger along the ribbon of her choker. "I would not be so careless as to lose you." 

Something deep within Rey's belly exploded at his words and his touch, and she swallowed thickly as her cheeks burned. She ought to leave, she ought to yank her arm away and flee through the crowd, back to the safety of her Grandfather's palace; his man was waiting in a boat for her. She ought to have left the moment she'd been parted from her chaperone in the earlier crush. 

But she had not been able to force herself to leave the spectacle of the carnival. She was allowed so little freedom. So few choices of her own. Little time to be alone. 

She wanted adventure. 

She wanted to breathe. 

She wanted this stranger.

He continued to drag her along, her feet soon tiring in her little slippers, the throngs of people thinning and the Calli growing narrower and quieter. 

"Where are we going?" she said, admiring the form of his broad figure beneath the black cloak that billowed with his hurried strides, imagining what it would be like to be engulfed in his arms and wrapped in his cloak.

"Somewhere I can be alone with you."

"Why?" she said innocently, knowing perfectly well the reason but wanting to hear him say it.

He jerked her around a final corner, stopping at the canal's edge, the water lapping musically at the path. The darkness bathed him completely now so it was with surprise that she felt his hands on her bare shoulders, pushing her backwards, his body plush against hers, matching her steps.

"I'm going to fuck you. That's what you want, isn't it, little mouse?"

"Yes," she said, her voice fluttering in her throat as his gloved fingers found the hood of her cloak, pulling it back and then unfastening the clasp and throwing the pink silk to the ground. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the silver moon full and hanging heavy in the sky above them, the stars bright and sparkling.

The stranger's eyes sparkled too with mischief and want. She knew this look - many a man had leered at her that way in the months since her introduction into society, and yet she'd never succumbed to such looks before.

"Such a pretty little head," he twirled his forefinger around the chestnut lock of curls that hung about her throat. "And such a pretty little neck." He leaned forward scraping his teeth along the vein that ran down her neck.

She gasped, her fingers scrabbling over the bricked wall at her back, and closed her eyes.

He drew back and her eyes flicked open.

"Are you a vampire?" she whispered, her voice quivering.

The stranger threw back his head and bellowed with laughter, the sound rumbling in his chest and echoing in the alleyway.

She frowned, the skin above the rim of his mask creasing, and, balancing up on her tiptoes, stopped up his mouth with her own. Instantly his mirth ceased and he gathered her up hungrily in his strong arms, capturing her lips with his own, kissing her hard with his whole mouth, his wet tongue pressing inside, stealing her breath away, making her legs weak with need.

He tasted of strong sweet wine, and the smell of him was masculine - wind and the sea and his horse. She let the flavour of him melt on her tongue and his aroma engulf her.

"A greedy little thing," he whispered into her jaw, "one who doesn't like to be laughed at I see." His lips found the side of her head and he buried his nose into the twists of her pinned hair, breathing in a lungful of her scent. "But can I tease you, my little one?"

Her eyes fluttered shut, as he swept his tongue around the shell of her ear, then plunged down her ear hole, his spit turning cold on her skin and making her gasp. "Y-y-yes. Tease me, please," she whined.

Once again he stepped back, and she felt chilled without her cloak and his warm body. He pulled away his own cape and his jacket, and clamped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her head and peering deep into her eyes. She hardly knew the filthy words that tumbled from his mouth then, a smirk playing on his lips, as a blush fell over her face and burnt her cheeks.

The pleasurable feeling rushed through her stomach again and the place between her legs throbbed. How she longed to be touched there, for him to release the need growing ever stronger. She felt utterly desperate with want.

As if reading her thoughts, his mouth travelled to her chest and he kissed the soft mound of each breast, rubbing his stubbled chin along her clavicle.

"What I'd give to release these sweet tits. To kiss each one," he growled.

Her nipples hardened, sensitive against the bones of her corset.

"To take you to my bed and undress you, to see all of you, to lie you naked beneath me," he continued.

"Then take me there," she said.

"Little mouse, I know who you are. I know who your grandfather is."

She pushed him away and narrowed her eyes.

He lowered his head, meeting her disgruntled look, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. 

"Would you like me to go?" His hands encircled her slim waist.

"And who are you?" she asked.

"An admirer."

She scoffed and turned her head away sulkily.

Pressing his body against hers, he kissed her lightly on her exposed neck and the feeling had her swooning, forgetting her anger.

"My man distracted your chaperone, lead them away. I very much wanted you to myself." His lips trailed back down to her cleavage and he sighed into her flesh.

"You needn't have bothered. My Grandfather does not care for me and I certainly don't care for him," she said, pulling off her satin gloves so that she could bury her hands in his soft locks, rubbing the strands between her fingers. "To him I am merely a commodity to own and sell to the highest bidder."

"Then maybe I shall buy you," he muttered.

"Barone Hux will most likely secure my hand."

The stranger stiffened. "You want to marry him?"

"No. I don't want to marry anyone. I want to run as far away from here as I can. But where would I go?" She held his face in her hands and yanked his mouth towards hers. "That is why I want this now - something for myself, something of my own." 

Her kiss was desperate as she pulled his head firmly, hooking her leg around him and pressing her core towards him. He kissed her back with equal passion until she was dizzy, and then he knelt down, his hands disappearing under the hem of her dress and her petticoats, running up her stockinged legs until he found the ribbons that held them up and above them her bare thigh. He dived beneath the layers of her skirts and licked the skin there, until he found the course curls at the apex of her legs. The feel of his warm breath had her flinching, trying to back away but his strong hold pinned her in place.

"I'm going to kiss you here, little mouse," came his deep, muffled voice, "and then I'm going to slip my fingers inside you. Open up, pretty one."

She obeyed and he wasted no time, his tongue swiping agonisingly slowly along her slit, passing over her entrance and then back. He parted her with his tongue, discovering her sensitive little nub, hard and pulsing. He groaned loudly into her wet folds, and the vibration had her shuddering, her hands reaching for something to steady herself. He was true to his word, tantalising her with creeping sweeps of his tongue, barely touching her. It meant the pressure built in her gradually, the tension tingling through her body, her cunt throbbing, her hands clawing at him beneath her dress, frantic to force him against her, to go faster, to give her the satisfaction she needed.

"Please," she begged, her eyes beginning to tear, "please."

He ignored her, continuing his steady pace but his gloved fingertips grazed the tender skin between her legs, once, twice, three times, before he circled the entrance to her wet cunt and then pressed one finger inside. She could feel how wet she was, wet with her own want and his spit and there was no resistance when he slipped a second inside. His fingers were long and he reached much further than she ever had herself, finding a tender spot that had her squealing with pleasure.

"Hush mouse," he chuckled, sucking her stiff little clit into his mouth as he pumped her, curling his fingertips to hit that same spot again and again. 

She was losing control, moaning and wailing, aware only of the feel of his mouth and his fingers, lost to the sensations crashing through her body, unaware - as she slumped against the wall - if it was he holding her up or her own legs. Finally her tension snapped, a wave of ecstasy soaring from the pit of her belly, every nerve tingling and singing. She sighed loudly as her cunt clenched and sucked at his fingers and he kissed her folds greedily, making her buck.

"Too much," she pushed him away, and he emerged from her skirt, licking his fingers, his hair damp on his forehead, his face glistening with her wetness.

The need for him had not abated. It had only grown stronger, and so she ran her hands over his chest and his shoulders, caressing his hard muscles beneath his loose cotton shirt, tearing at his cravat, finding away to his smooth skin, kissing at his neck.

He tugged himself free of his breeches and she stared down at him with awe, never having seen a man hard and so large before. Taking him in her hands, she found him hot and throbbing, the skin delicately soft and dark, black curls of his own crowning the base.

The air was cooling now, a breeze tripping off the water and frisking over their feverish bodies. The moon, high above them, cast a silvery light, and the water shimmered by their feet; two ghosts in the night.

Ruffling up her skirts, he stepped closer, grasping her arse in his hands and tilting her towards him. She hung to him, whimpering with anticipation, biting down on her lip, bracing herself as he plunged inside, stretching her open, nudging at that place of pleasure again. 

She closed her eyes to the feeling, to savour it, to be completely filled, held in place by this strong man with his wicked eyes, pleasure of his own falling over his face as he ground into her, making everything in her cunt feel alive. 

"How does it feel, tell me how it feels?" he groaned, lifting her from her feet and pinning her against the wall. 

The layers of her skirt kept her from reaching him as she wished and only her fingers could skate over his bulging arms and shoulders. She wished it could be as he described, in his bed, flesh on flesh. She'd like to taste him, both his skin and his hard cock. She'd like to see the whole of him and, at the thought of it, she tried to reach out and remove his mask, but he twisted his face away and growled.

"Little mouse, I said, how does it feel?"

But her reply was indiscernible - a flurry of sighs and moans - as he worked her harder, pounding her with a forceful steady rhythm that had her breasts bouncing in her corset, and his balls slapping against her arsehole, his groin rubbing at her clit. 

"I knew your cunt would feel this way. That it would taste so very delicious. I knew from the way you sauntered about with defiance shining in your eyes. I knew you needed a good fucking, that you deserved a good fucking, that I needed to - had to - make you come again and again and again." He muttered all this into her shoulder, as his thrusts became faster and harder, driving her pleasure to explode through her body and her mind until she was purely putty in his arms, dissolved into a simpering mess.

He stilled, pulling himself quickly from her, despite her curses and pleads, placing her on her feet, and capturing the spend that pumped from his eager cock with a ready handkerchief. He swore as he came, squeezing her breast and staring her right in the eye, his jaw flexing and relaxing.

Then he kissed her sloppily on the mouth, clearly needing a last taste of her. Finally he pulled away, and she pouted at him with disapproval.

He chuckled, cleaning himself up and fussing with her skirts.

"You'll be missed, little mouse."

"I don't want to go back," she grumbled, and twisted her head away in a sulk.

"But back you must go." He stroked the cheek below her mask. "Do not be sad - we may meet again. I won't forget you"

She leaned into his touch. "Or I you." Then she snatched the handkerchief from his hands and stuffed it into her pocket before he could grab it back.

"A pleasure to have met you then, Sir," she said with a sly look, dipping low and holding out her hand for him to kiss. Gathering up her gloves and her cloak, she hurried away into the darkness, her slippers clicking on the paving stones.

____

Some crocodile tears and good acting seemed to have convinced her Grandfather that, after becoming separated from her chaperone, Rey had wandered the Venice streets lost and distressed, confused and disorientated in the raucous crowds. But his acceptance of her story, she suspected, was more disinterest than true belief, too consumed with other matters to care where his granddaughter had been for those missing hours.

Still he admonished her, and she was confined to the palace for a week.

So it was with caution that she approached her grandfather's study, hearing a visitor within, a man with a deep and melodic voice. The stranger stood as Rey entered and bowed his head.

He was tall and broad, with locks of jet black hair and a mouth that was sensual and knowing.

"This is Conte Kylo Ren," her grandfather said.

Rey curtsied in acknowledgment.

"You seem familiar, Sir. Do I know you?" she said, her face completely neutral.

"No, I have not had that pleasure," he smiled, his caramel eyes flashing, "And I would be sure to have remembered if I had."

**Author's Note:**

> If you are wondering why Rey wasnt wearing any underwear in this fic, I did my research, wanting to find out what women wore in the 18th century, only to discover they wore nothing! Yep nothing - no knickers, no panties, no knickerbockers!
> 
> Thanks for reading 💕 I'm ReyloBrit on Twitter and Tumblr.


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